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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837480">Elevator Trope: Saiouma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin'>I_am_a_Ruin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friendship, I mean, M/M, Nervous Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi Is a Little Shit, Panic Attacks, Saihara has very traditional ideas of social etiquette, Saihara is bad at interacting with humans, Someone get this man some friends, Trapped In Elevator, an Ouma-sized headache, his version of casual is probably button up and slacks, look at the way he dresses, socially awkward saihara shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:07:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Saihara should've taken the stairs, but like every other day, he chose the elevator. He thought spending 60 seconds with Ouma was going to be a pain. Then they're stuck for four hours. Maybe Ouma will be merciful and just put him out of his misery? Probably not.</p><p>(Literally, just a really cliche elevator trope)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>223</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Elevator Trope: Saiouma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not dead! My drive to write finally woke up from it's like six-month coma and I'm finally making actual headway with everything I need to update. Soon. For now, have this garbage.<br/>My entire reason for writing this was just a sudden 3 am consuming need to write the most ridiculous SaiOuma elevator trope make-out session. Of course, Saihara refused to admit to knowing Ouma at all so that.... didn't exactly happen and this actually turned semi-serious? <br/>Whatever. 3 months later and I've given up on forcing them to kiss and just posting it. Might post a chapter two if I ever get the inspiration. If you read this, honestly thanks for existing. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe right now! </p><p>Pretty much the only thing you need to know is that I'm American. I try really hard to do research into culture and be as accurate as possible, but I'm still American so if things aren't right, I apologize.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saihara should have taken the stairs that morning. A little cardio would be good for his heart given that he wasn’t particularly active. Cardio was certainly better than this anxiety-fueled adrenaline rush causing his heart palpitations. However, he had barely managed to drag himself out of bed that morning for his eight am English class. Six flights of stairs just had not seemed feasible to his half-asleep zombie brain, so he took the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was he kidding, exactly? He always took the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After today, though, he swore to himself he was never taking the Nerima Hall elevator ever again. Six flights of stairs be damned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had entered the hall that morning, a headache starting to creep up the base of his neck from the stress of the heavy carry-on straps digging into his shoulders. As he had waited for the elevator doors to open, another bleary-eyed student came to stand next to him. The boy had a different beverage in each hand. One was a plastic bottle three-quarter full of fizzing grape Panta. The other was a much smaller, purple and black bottle Saihara recognized as five-hour energy. He tried not to stare as he watched his classmate pour the entire five-hour energy into his soda and toss the empty container into a nearby trash can. No wonder he was always so hyper in class despite the early hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma noticed Saihara’s eyes on him and shot the other a toothy grin, raising his soda as if to say, “cheers.” The door to the elevator opened and both stepped inside. Already Saihara was regretting whatever life decision had led to him having to share a space with Oma for any amount of time. The boy was an obnoxious ball of energy in a very small container; certainly, he was not going to be any relief on Saihara’s pounding head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Saihara-chan!” Oma greeted, leaning over on tippy-toe in order to speak much closer to Saihara’s ear than necessary in such a small, quiet area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara gave Oma a small, forced smile and nod. “Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, your eyes must be tired from carrying those heavy bags!” Oma continued, only invading Saihara’s personal space more in order to examine his face. Oma thrust his beverage forward as an offering, “Need a pick-me-up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, thank you,” Saihara said quietly, hoping Oma would back away already. He was trying his best to not appear annoyed, knowing it would only encourage Ouma’s behavior. The proximity made him uncomfortable and the volume was all the more overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma shrugged thankfully rocking back on his heels, putting a more decent amount of space between the two of them. “Oh well! More for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara attempted to watch the floor number changing above the doors, but Oma had a knack for keeping the attention on himself as much as possible. The boy began chugging his drink like he had to finish it before they arrived at the top floor, not even breaking for a breath. Saihara couldn’t contain his wince of surprise, eyes widening slightly at the blatant disregard of social etiquette. Oma only drank faster at Saihara’s reaction, so he tried to force himself to stop giving the other the gratification of antagonizing him. Oma didn’t need to know he’d successfully cemented a pounding headache that might have otherwise faded once Saihara had set down his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma chuckled nasally to himself, still somehow satisfied despite Saihara’s best efforts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have to do that?” Saihara asked despite himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I was thirsty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara didn’t get an opportunity to retort because the elevator took that moment to shudder to a halt, lights flickering in a way that made his eyes sting. The floor number displayed above the door had been showing a five and was now stuck between that and six. When it didn’t immediately pick back up and the lights stayed off, Saihara’s stomach turned violently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a lovely start to his day this all was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma’s breathing was just as loud and aggravating as he was and Saihara almost told him to knock it off when the boy started cackling. It wasn’t a nice laugh, the addicting, infectious kind that left you breathless and everyone else joined in. This laugh was ugly and cruel, grating on Saihara’s ears. It was nothing like Ouma’s usual nasal exhale. This was a horrid cackle that sent chills crawling across his skin. He wanted to clap a hand of Oma’s mouth to stifle it but he couldn’t see the boy to even try. Everything was pitch black and he could do without Oma taunting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scared, Saihara-chan?” Oma’s voice surpassed taunting, leaning into more dark and biting tones. “You never know what’ll happen when you’re trapped in a place with a stranger. I mean, I run a very dangerous evil organization so if you’re not scared you should definitely be scared. I’ve gotten away with murders of people way more important than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had always seen the boy as pesky, like a gnat you swat at, infuriating but harmless. Certainly never vicious or callous. This was a wildly different side of Oma. Sure he’d joked about that organization of his, but it had always been another one of his bald-faced lies. Saihara had never been afraid or felt threatened by him. No one took Oma seriously. The way Oma said those words just now, however, there was a certain harsh passion behind them that unnerved Saihara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma started to say something else probably just as frightening, but cut himself off with more wicked cackling. That’s when Saihara heard the desperate, hysterical notes in the laughter, as though this was uncontrollable. Was Oma…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oma, are you claustrophobic?” Saihara asked calmly, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma snorted derisively, “Of course not, stupidhead. Don’t project your own terror onto me. Admit you’re afraid right now and maybe I’ll let you live. Go on scaredy-cat, grovel for your life. If you don’t I promise to make you suffer a loooooong death. How high is your pain tolerance? I have a whole division in my organization just for waterboarding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Oma wouldn’t tell him what the problem was, how could Saihara help? Part of him didn’t even want to. They were barely even friends and everything with Oma was exhausting. However, they were going to be trapped in this tiny space in the dark for an undetermined amount of time for who knew why and he wasn’t certain anyone even knew they were stuck here and was trying to free them. Saihara couldn’t exactly sit here and just let Oma panic-babble himself to death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh, have anxiety, you know?” Saihara said awkwardly, trying to not hate himself for saying anything at all.  It probably wouldn’t help and Oma wouldn’t let him help. Which was perfectly fine. Saihara </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>care if Oma had a panic attack. “When I have panic attacks, I try to feel grounded, be aware of my surroundings. Like the floor beneath me and the temperature of the room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the least subtle person ever, Saihara-chan. I already knew you were having a panic attack. I’m afraid my minions will not be turning the lights on any time soon so that you can start counting colors or whatever. You’ll just have to live in these conditions. Lucky for you, you admitted your wimpy fear so you get to live another day! A deal’s a deal.” Oma’s word vomit didn’t stop but Saihara could hear and feel him begin to pace around their cramped box. Everything began swaying and he had to steel his nerves. A little pacing wouldn’t knock the elevator to the ground if it hadn’t fallen yet, right? Maybe Oma’s deal wasn’t claustrophobia after all. Saihara could only hope Oma was using the grounding technique he’d tried to communicate, touching the walls and the railing and paying attention to the different textures and temperatures. His breathing did seem a little slower, less frantic, and audible. Oma laughed again, although it wasn’t as deranged-sounding as before. It was back to Oma’s nasally, over-the-top fake laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was good. Even if Oma was a pain in the ass, he didn’t deserve to suffer the</span>
</p><p>
  <span>tight-chested, crippling terror of a panic attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creaky grinding of the rocking elevator was really starting to freak Saihara out but how could he ask Oma to stop doing the one thing keeping </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>calm?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too quiet,” Oma said after a while. His pacing had slowed to a halt. Saihara only had a vague idea of where he was standing and he was already so turned around so it didn’t exactly matter but it seemed important to be facing Oma anyways. It sounded like they might actually have a serious conversation. Not to mention, he wasn’t fond of the idea of the lights coming back on and Oma laughing at him for talking to the wall like a moron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just thinking,” Saihara responded after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saihara-chan better not be planning to take advantage of defwensewess wittle me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>you were a creep! You planned this, didn’t you? You’re totally obsessed with me and you had to get me alone, huh.” Oma accused and for a moment Saihara actually thought he was being serious and was uncomfortable alone with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you say your organization was behind this?” Saihara pointed out, a little thrilled at having seen through Oma’s game. This was a good distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, my organization would never put me in danger with a total perv like you!” Oma said, almost wailing at the implication of betrayal in his gang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So which one’s the lie? Are your ‘minions’ in control of the lights or am I behind this to-” Saihara couldn’t finish his sentence, disgusted by the idea that he’d ever do something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma’s laugh was more surprised this time, definitely very pleased. “Saihara-san caught me! He’s so smart. He should be a detective!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara bit his tongue to keep from mentioning that Oma already knew he was majoring in criminal justice. The conversation lulled as Saihara went back to his thoughts. This felt like such a long wait and it had likely only been ten minutes. He should have just stayed in bed today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugggggh!!” Oma cried out of nowhere, jolting Saihara to attention. “You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… sorry?” Saihara muttered, finally sitting down. No point in staying standing when they could be trapped for hours. His spine probably had enough damage from being hunched over screens without carrying a bag for hours needlessly. He leaned against his backpack, hands fumbling over the fabric in search of the pocket holding his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be. Thousands of people across the globe have paid to entertain </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kings have gifted me their finest vocalists to serenade me at my whim. How dare you deign to bore me.” There was a quirk of sarcasm in Oma’s voice Saihara decided he didn’t need to point out. They both knew he was lying. It was an odd lie though, one that sounded almost like Oma was trying to… point out the ridiculousness of Saihara apologizing for something so dumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara finally found the side pocket his phone should have been in. Empty. No… Of all days to forget his phone! Well, there weren't many people he could contact anyways. Saihara had not exactly made tons of friends on campus. The light might have been nice, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what you’re thinking or I will retract my decision to spare you today,” Oma sulked. Saihara didn’t like how he seemed to know what Oma was feeling without being able to see his expressions. He had no interest in getting to understand him. Oma acted like a shallow, bratty, little kid; Saihara didn’t need or want him to have depth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “You don’t like the quiet, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you always so direct? God, Saihara. How do you make friends this way?” Oma snorted. He was almost certain that was supposed to sound offended, but he just seemed mildly amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the name of not answering </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>question, Saihara decided to answer Oma’s previous demand. “Do you remember the class discussion a few weeks ago? We were talking about the theme of fear in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamlet </span>
  </em>
  <span>and how it crippled him? We all had to list a crippling fear of our own or something similar… I was thinking about that discussion.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross, Saihara-san. The universe gave us a get-out-of-jail-free card and you’re going to use this miraculous free time thinking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>class?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Saihara couldn’t figure out Oma’s tone this time. It was shaky and laced with annoyance that he couldn’t understand. It made him feel defensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one that asked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you thinking about that discussion?” Oma clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was lying. I do have a specific fear.” Saihara mumbled, feeling embarrassed and stupid for bringing it up. Oma probably didn’t care. Why did Oma have to make him talk? Since when did he want to hear anyone’s voice other than his own?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, I knew that.” Oma’s voice was quiet, matching Saihara’s own pitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did?” Saihara hated the surprise in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, duh. You’re a terrible liar. If I had to guess… I’d say social anxiety, right?” Oma moved forward, trying to sit closer to Saihara so he didn’t have to speak up as much. Or maybe he just didn’t like talking to a disembodied voice he couldn’t really feel the presence of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surprising accuracy made something mean in Saihara’s chest rear its head. “You lied too, about despising everyone who is dishonest. If you hated lies so much, you wouldn’t do it all the time. In fact, you lie the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>when </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re scared, right? If </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had to guess, I’d say you’re scared of the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oma was quiet for a moment. Not a nice, comfortable quiet. Saihara could hear him fidgeting. “Really? I don’t think you know anything, Mr. Detective. That’s like your third guess since we got locked in here. You’re not very observant at all. I’ll have to kill you for your uselessness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you use death threats on everyone to get them to do what you want?” Saihara sighed in irritation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only for my most favorite people in the whole world!” Oma said in sing-song. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hardly even know me,” Saihara pointed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- but… but Saihara-chan, I thought we were best friends!” Oma’s voice shook, wavering on every syllable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara winced, knowing what was coming. He’d witnessed Oma pulling this stunt more than once in class. He could just picture that stupid bottom lip wobbling and the furrowing of Oma brows above pretty glittering eyes ready to shed a copious amount of crocodile tears. Someone said something Oma didn’t like and he turned into a wailing, headache-inducing baby. Saihara already had a headache. He needed to diffuse this situation immediately, call Oma out on his bullshit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you didn’t, knock it off. You only talk to people to piss them off.” Saihara sighed, making sure his tone didn’t leave room for argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch. You’re right. I can’t stand talking to people, really. All of my motivations are purely evil. And that’s the truth, but do you get this grouchy with anyone trying to be your friend?” Oma said, trying to sound disinterested, but heavy sarcasm filtered through anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Had Saihara actually upset him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually sounded genuine for once. Did Oma </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be his friend? And if so… Did Saihara want to be friends? Oma was fairly exhausting, but so was human interaction in general. Besides, the banter wasn’t always bad. At the very least, puzzling him out was fun and Ouma was never boring. Sometimes his child-like glee in class when he found a topic interesting was even adorable if mildly embarrassing with all of his constant and aggravating disregard for social norms. Being around Oma meant a lot of attention but that wasn’t necessarily bad, right? It might be worth it. Saihara could use a friend… He didn’t exactly have an abundance of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None, actually. No one seemed to want to talk to him since he came to college. It wasn’t like he minded, but it was lonely. Not even his roommate liked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Saihara muttered, trying to not feel so embarrassed at admitting this. “I don’t exactly get a lot of friendship applications.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Saihara-chan, silly Saihara! I’m not applying to you! I never put in applications for a friend! I get thousands every day, so I never need to. I rarely accept anyone because they’re just so boring buuut for you, I think I can make an exception.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t Oma just say he wanted to be friends? Everything had to be so damn confusing with him. And why did Oma saying they were friends now make Saihara feel so warm?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he really that starved of social interaction? Funny how something so horrifying to him was something he desperately needed. The pleasant feeling of having made a friend did not steady his nerves unfortunately, his hands still trembled in his lap, stomach clenching painfully as he tried to keep from snapping the rubber band around his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Saihara tried to say, throat closing up at the idea of speaking. For once, Oma actually waited patiently for Saihara to gather himself instead of interrupting. Saihara exhaled slowly, and began again. “I, uh, I would like that. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked this, please feel free to leave a comment. Even if I don't respond, I'll stare at all of them in my inbox and smile and often be inspired to update that piece soon. <br/>Have a fantastic day. Stay hydrated &lt;3</p><p>Side note, I sat for like an hour trying to come up with a better chapter title and honestly couldn't think of anything so if someone has a suggestion I'm all ears.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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